Penguins and Roses
by Sign.Of.Wish
Summary: Collaboration between: Teenage.Dream92 & Nirianne!  Two people. Two points of view. One destination: 12TH GRADE PROM! Surely it'll be a fairytale right? WRONG! R&R!
1. The Question

**A/N:** Welcome to the official first chapter of the collaboration between Teenage . Dream 92 (stupid won't allow me write your penname properly...) and myself! So here's how it'll work: each chapter is written by us, alternating it. So you'll see the difference in writing styles! I hope that doesn't bother you guys ^^; I be writing odd chapters and she writes even chapters! So I hope you'll guys enjoy! Don't forget to read and review ;)

**Disclaimer:** We don't own anything

**Summary: **Two people. Two points of view. One destination: 12TH GRADE PROM! Surely it'll be a fairytale right? WRONG!

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Question**

"Hmmm, is this thing on?"

Hilary tapped her webcam suspiciously when a sudden image of herself appeared on the screen. Almost having a heart attack, she fell back into her chair relieved. Well, at least it was her face and not some face from that Jigsaw guy from SAW. Anyway, with that aside, she adjusted her hair and her top; she was in for one big meeting with…

"_HEY YOU!"_ Julia's voice exploded from the speakers.

Hilary thought she was going to be deaf. _Damn you Skype._ Shaking her head, she adjusted the volume on her desktop computer to tolerable levels. Right after, people began showing up one by one. People as in the awesome, undefeatable girl gang. She breathed, ready for interrogation. This so wasn't going to go well, she concluded.

Four other windows popped up around the main window; from the top left and lower left you had Julia and Emily. To the top right and lower right you had Mariah and Matilda.

"So…" Hilary said. "What's up?"

"_Let's not waste time with idle chatter,"_ said the Spaniard. Her green eyes were fixed to Hilary's brown ones. _"We all came online so we can ask you __**the question**__."_

_Oh dear lord._

"_You better be ready for it,"_ Emily grinned crunching on potato chip.

"_Who's your date to the prom?"_ Mariah asked brightly.

Hilary Tachibana was now in grade twelve. The prom was something she never looked forward to. Since entering high school, she went out with complete losers in the end. Long story short: she was just too intimidating to the guys… except one knuckle-head sandwich you call Tyson Granger. Flicking her long hair over her shoulder, she thought of an appropriate answer.

"Nobody,"

A simultaneous _"What?"_ shot out of the speakers forcing Hilary to plug her ears. The girls were confused, perplexed even why Hilary didn't have a prom date! Rubbing her temples, Hilary had to dig deep for another appropriate answer.

"Girls," she began tiredly. "Since ninth grade I went the prom with complete losers only to find out they were _scared_ of me. I mean really… am I that scary?"

_Vicious._ Mariah thought nervously.

_Too outspoken_. Emily nodded.

_Terrifying…_ Matilda smiled sheepishly.

"_Oh hush! You gotta be aggressive to get anywhere in the world!"_ Julia said leaning back into her chair. _"If you were a softie, nothing will get done, ya hear me?"_

The conversation wasn't going well as planned; the girls came online to help Hilary for the prom but without a suitable prom date, they could do nothing! The girls were in different parts of the world! Hilary appreciated the help but in times like this, she rather do her physics homework which was due tomorrow. Bleh.

"_What about Tyson?"_ Mariah asked. Yes, she asked _the_ question about _the_ guy.

There was an unusual silence.

"_Oh come on, he hasn't asked you yet has he?"_

"_That ton of bricks asking out our Hilary?"_ Emily said, putting down the bag of chips. _"Heck, he doesn't know anything unless it's literally on a silver platter covered in barbeque sauce!"_

"_I agree with Em,"_ Julia nodded._ "I mean he's the densest thing on Earth!"_

"_But he's nice…"_ Matilda added.

"_Oh come on!"_ Mariah threw her hands in the air. _"He's nice! Sure at times he's a complete jerk—"_

"Correction: Make that most of the time," Hilary interrupted, wagging her finger in front of the webcam.

"_Anyway, he's the closest one to you so it's by default he'll ask you! You guys have been friends since middle school right? Don't tell me you don't have feelings for the guy!"_

Wow, what was this? Dr. Phil in the land of Nippon giving out free relationship suggestions? Yeah, no. Hilary felt a migraine erupting at the back of her head. Just to hear the moron's name made her blood boil. Ugh, she imagined the havoc he'll cause already! Such visions include the following: torn up suit or torn up prom gown, instead of flowers she'll get a cactus or a Venus flytrap, a proper vehicle? Please. He'll probably be too cheap to rent it out or better yet, he'll carry her… Okay maybe not. Long story short: It wasn't going to _happen!_ See, if you knew Tyson Granger, he messed up _everything_ (other than blading)! It was inevitable that that day, somebody was going to be slaughtered. Surely that person would not be Hilary Tachibana.

"Hell no!" Hilary screamed.

Mariah smiled, _"Well it was worth a try."_

Just as Hilary was about to speak, three knocks echoed from her door. Her mother entered.

"What was that all about?"

"Nothing,"

"Anyway, aren't you supposed to get going now? The Prom Committee can't set up anything without your help now, Hilary being the President and all."

_Busted._

"Well, be down there in fifteen minutes, I'll drive you there."

With the door once again closed, Hilary felt _all_ eyes were on her.

"_So that's why you don't have a date!"_ Matilda stood up from her seat pointing to Hilary, almost accusingly. _"You're busying yourself with work!"_

Hilary put her hands up, almost in a surrendering fashion, "Alright, you got me. Anyway I got to go now but I'll talk to you girls later alright?"

Strings of huffs and hmphs followed but the girls nodded, saying goodbye to each other as each logged off. With the computer now turned off, Hilary leaned back into her chair with an arm over her eyes.

_Wow… that was unproductive._

Pushing herself off the chair, she marched over to her bed picking up her bag. Walking pass a mirror, she examined herself. Doing a little spin, she realized how much she changed over the years. Her hair was longer, hanging down the center of her back. She was happy she grew a whole full inch! There were other improvements as well but she'll skip the details; right now she needed to get ready for the meeting with other members of the Prom Committee. With one last look, she left her room shutting the door behind her.


	2. Stage Fright

**(A/N): **Hi guys! This is TeenageDream92, writing chapter number two! Like Nirianne said, we're alternating chapters and points of view. So, that means that my chapter will be taking a look at Tyson's side this time! It also means that Tyson's chapters will be written in a slightly different style, haha. We hope you don't mind. XD Anyways, I'm going to stop talking now and let you read! Review if you'd like, we'd love to hear your thoughts! :D

Oh, and thanks to those who reviewed! :)

**Disclaimer:** We don't own Beyblade. :)

* * *

**Chapter 2: Stage Fright**

Tyson didn't know what he did to deserve it.

Well, that was a bit of a lie. He knew he had messed up in some way; that was usually what the case was. But whether it was something he _said_ or something he _did_, he couldn't tell. The thoughts of the past day seemed to escape him, no matter how hard he tried to recall what happened. It wasn't something new, though. Lately, it seemed that all the colours in his life, all the defined lines, had somewhat blurred into a murky mess. And it felt like it was stuck that way, like there was no way to correct it.

Tyson shoved his hands into his pockets and let out a short huff as he ambled slowly through the near-desolate streets. He wasn't quite sure why there weren't people out and about today; it was a perfectly nice summer day. The sun shone hotly against the background of the muted blue sky, but the temperature was quite mild. Tyson looked around warily as a soft summer breeze ruffled his hair. He knew something had to be going on. Otherwise, he would have heard the sounds of kids laughing, of metal clanging as they hit each other head on—

The capped teen ground his teeth together. It was the perfect day to 'blade. But he knew that he probably wouldn't get any beyblading done today.

It annoyed the hell out of him.

Still, he trudged onwards, listening to the mechanical sound of his sneakers scraping against the pavement. It sucked, having to go to school after-hours. How did they expect him to put effort into helping something that he hated with every fibre of his being? School was his own personal hell. He _despised_ sitting in a balmy classroom for eight hours a day, doing nothing but working and – in his own case – staring out the window longingly or watching the individual seconds tick by on the wall-clock. It was pure torture.

And now they wanted him to do something-or-rather to help the –

_Wait, what was I supposed to be doing again?_

Tyson pursed his lips and preoccupied himself by trying to remember what it was that he was being forced to do. He struggled to pull out names, images, sounds, _anything_ that was linked to the mundane task. All he could remember was something about a dance. He tried to force some sort of extra information out of his brain, but in the end, he gave up. Most things didn't register in his brain unless they had the words 'food' or 'beyblade' in them. He knew that he hadn't been paying attention and that it was pretty much a lost cause unless he got some sort of clue. He also knew that it was going to bug the hell out of him until he figured it out.

Damn his selective brain.

_This_, he thought bitterly, _is hardly how I'd spend a Friday afternoon_.

He stooped down to steal a small, grey pebble from the display on someone's lawn. They wouldn't miss it; the single stone he had picked up was among hundreds of others. He tossed the rock in the air a couple of times, trying to decide whether to ditch his community service or not. He figured that he was like the pebble; he probably wouldn't be missed if he didn't show up. But even if they _did _notice, he guessed that people would actually appreciate the fact that he hadn't come. It was common knowledge that he messed things up. Sometimes they were intentional …

But most times they weren't. People honestly didn't give him enough credit. They thought he was just some dense, lazy jock.

At least, they were wrong about the dense part.

Tyson hummed thoughtfully as he threw the stone up into the air again. Skipping out on detention seemed inviting, but there was just one, tiny problem. It lingered in the back of his mind, hanging there, taunting him. It was the only thing that was preventing him from playing hooky, the only thing preventing him from his freedom. It was like he couldn't escape it, no matter how hard he tried – and he had tried valiantly to evade its wrath.

Tyson smirked as the mental image of a fiery dragon came to mind. He decided that it was a fairly accurate representation of his problem.

Okay, so maybe Hilary Tachibana was no dragon. But she wasn't some pretty little kitty, either.

_No_, he thought glumly, _she's much worse_.

He knew he could count on her to report him missing. That was just how she was; always going out of her way to make his life a living hell. Wherever he was, she happened to appear and start nagging him about anything and everything: homework, beyblading, even his freaking _hat_. She always wanted something from him that he was positive that he couldn't give her. He wanted some time alone. But even when he got some, she was still flitting through his mind every now and then: Hilary wouldn't like _this_ or Hilary wouldn't do _that_. Even when she wasn't around, she managed to screw up his life.

She was just so damn _irritating_.

And it didn't help that she would be at the school, coordinating whatever dance event that was going on.

The pebble that Tyson had been throwing landed in his palm with a small thud of finality. The eighteen-year-old narrowed his russet eyes at the small object and growled angrily. He knew that he couldn't get out of this one _that_ easily. He knew that he was stuck having to go to school and help out with that damn project of hers. And he most certainly knew that he was literally caught between a rock and a hard place.

Tyson clasped the stone in a furious grip, causing his knuckles to turn a pale white. Then he closed his eyes and jerked his arm abruptly, launching the stolen pebble into the air. The navy-haired male flicked open his twin pools of brown once again as he watched the rock soar through the air, almost in slow motion. He felt the pent-up animosity lift off of his shoulders as the pebble flew farther and farther away. But within a second, the frustration came back, in full force. The aimed projectile seemed to be speeding towards an innocent bystander, who was conveniently – or rather, unfortunately – positioned where the stone was set to make impact.

Before Tyson could do anything about it, the pebble hit the other male squarely in the head, causing the poor kid to squeal. Tyson jogged up to his victim, a sheepish look plastered to his face.

"Uh…heads up?" Tyson laughed nervously as he approached his friend with an embarrassed smile.

"Geeze, Tyson, the one time you get some sort of aim, and you end up hitting me," the spectacled boy replied, smoothing out his auburn hair with a frown on his face.

"Hey, I have perfect aim," Tyson pouted, shoving his hands into the pockets of his crimson blazer once again. "Dizzy can vouch for me. I've been ten-for-ten on my beyblade launches."

"Actually, no she can't. I've run the data several times, Tyson. You've missed your launching target the last three out of six times."

"As long as it gets in the dish, right?" Tyson shrugged nonchalantly, causing the younger boy to return his gesture with resigned sigh. "Anyways, sorry about that, Chief."

"What are you doing out here, anyways?" Kenny asked, fiddling with his glasses. "Shouldn't you be at school helping Hilary with the prom preparations?"

_Prom_. That's what it was. Tyson's face twisted into a half-enlightened, half-frustrated expression. He had never liked the idea of dances in general; he was more the type to stay a safe distance away. But prom was on a totally different level. It involved work and thought and…_work_. It was something too dramatic and too stressful to go through, especially on the part of the guy. Who wanted to go through public humiliation, _just_ to ask a girl out to prom, anyways? As far as he was concerned, prom was just another chore. Thankfully, it was an optional chore.

That was, until Hilary made him part of the process.

_Damn you, Hilary_.

"Yeah," Tyson scowled, removing the hands in his pockets to cross them against his chest. "I was just going there. But I really don't see the point in this prom. It's stupid."

"Are you telling me that you're _actually_ going to skip out on your own prom?" Kenny quirked an eyebrow, eyeing the 'blader incredulously.

"Are you telling me that you're _actually_ considering going to it?" Tyson countered, his tone high and disbelieving. Tyson thought that Kenny was hardly the type to socialize; he knew that his friend preferred the excitement of the computing variety. But prom?

Kenny merely flushed and tried to hide his shamefaced expression using his long, choppy bangs. Tyson saw right through his hair, though, and sent him a glare through the forest of brown covering his eyes. The look on Kenny's face told him that he wasn't just _considering_ prom; he was definitely going. There was a reason why his computer-oriented friend had made up his mind so thoroughly, and it had to do with someone of the opposite gender. Tyson missed the days of being innocent and carefree. He missed the days of _cooties_.

And then, suddenly, he felt a little pang of loneliness. The thought of being alone on the night of prom, surprisingly, startled him. But in a flash, the emotion dissipated. It left him bitter and exasperated.

"Not you too," Tyson whined. "Who is she?"

"W-hat do you m-mean?" Kenny stammered, refusing to meet Tyson's intense gaze. His face was pointed downwards, his gaze fixed on his shoes.

"The girl you're taking to prom. Who is she?" Tyson gave him a scrutinizing stare.

"I-I don't know what you're talking a-about." Kenny replied, this time more strongly.

"Ugh!" Tyson threw his hands up in the air in annoyance. "I used to think girls sucked, but it seems that guys can't be trusted either. Whatever happened to the 'Bro Code'?"

"What's that?"

"Useless," Tyson muttered under his breath, to which Kenny shot a glare.

"You should go to prom, Tyson. It's a once in a lifetime sort of thing." Kenny told him.

"Who wants to go to that stupid thing anyways? And you have to take a _girl_."

"They're not so bad, you know."

"Yeah, right," Tyson scowled, sarcasm seething through every word.

"Oh. _Oh_." The realization broke through Kenny's voice as clear as day. Tyson fidgeted as he tried to keep the composed bitter mask tied to his face. He should have known that Kenny would try to make heads or tails of his behaviour. Leave it to that kid to figure something out. "You're scared because you don't want to ask a girl out."

"I sure as hell am not." Tyson responded, continuing to shuffle as he shifted the weight from one foot to the next. "Besides, why does the _guy_ have to ask out the girl? That's what I call racist."

"You mean sexist," Kenny pointed out. Tyson shot him a cold stare, causing Kenny's expression to twist into one of slight fear. The small boy held up his hands in defense before continuing. "Call it whatever you want. But you're just scared."

Why did geniuses have to be so smart? For once, Tyson wished that he was someone else. He was the _World Champion of Beyblading_. He wasn't supposed to get stage fright. He was supposed to be tough, he was supposed to be brave, and damn it, he was supposed to be a ladies man.

No. He wouldn't let some _prom_ ruin his reputation.

"I am _not_. I'm going to ask a girl to prom…soon." He scowled as his stomach started to churn. How the hell was he supposed to manage _that_?

"Well, you'd better ask soon," Kenny replied, giving him a quizzical look upon his sudden change of heart. "A lot of girls have already been asked."

"What?" Tyson's mouth dropped to the floor. "Even _Hilary_?"

It was Kenny's turn to be surprised. His eyebrows shot up as he responded, "I'm not sure…"

"Oh."

"Why? Were you thinking of asking her?"

Tyson froze, unable to move. _Was _he planning on asking her? She was okay, but she was _Hilary_. They'd been friends forever. It would probably be weird. And then there was the nagging thing – constant and unavoidable. He cringed at the thought of having to endure a long night with the sound of her shrill voice shouting overtop of the music to lecture him on how to dance. There was only so far a guy would go.

The image of a dragon suddenly crowded his mind once again.

"Hell no!" Tyson shouted, forcing Kenny to clamp both of his hands to ears.

"Honestly," the brown-haired boy began say, rather cautiously, "It wasn't that odd of a suggestion. You guys are more alike than you think…"

"_Are you out of your freaking mind, Kenny_?" Tyson boomed. "I'm nothing like that witch."

"Okay, fine!" Kenny winced at the sound of his friend's voice. "I surrender! Just, please, enough with the incessant yelling," he said feebly, inching away several steps. Tyson felt the guilt tugging at his sides as he watched his timid friend gaze at him with a certain amount of terror within his well-hidden eyes. Maybe his screaming had been a little over the top, but really – what sort of messed-up suggestion was that?

"Whatever," Tyson merely answered, placing his hands behind the back of his head. He was too tired to continue this conversation. He had something else to do; he had somewhere else to be.

_Where did I have to go again?_

They stood in silence, simply staring at each other somewhat awkwardly for about a moment, before Kenny finally started speaking again with a certain guarded undertone to his quiet voice.

"Uh, Tyson? Shouldn't you be headed to school? You're about a half-hour late…"

"Right," Tyson nodded absently. "School…"

His voice drifted off as he thought about his prom situation. He was going to have to find some girl to ask, and he was going to have to do it soon. But he didn't know how on earth he was supposed to tackle that. He had never done it before, since most times, the girls usually asked _him_. Was he supposed to get down on one knee, and beg?

No, that was how a guy was supposed to _propose_. Scratch that.

"Tyson?" Kenny's voice broke his thoughts once again. "Hilary will have your head if you don't show up."

"I know," he grumbled. He looked down at his shoes and found the pebble that he had thrown in anger, the same pebble that had hit Kenny in the head. He hunched to pick up the smooth object and grasped it tightly when it was in his hands. "I'll see you later, Chief."

He checked the time on his cellphone before turning his back on his friend and moseying forward. It was much later than he had been told to be there, but he didn't really care; he guessed that the others wouldn't mind either. The only person who would do _anything_ about his behaviour was Hilary.

Yes, Hilary would be absolutely livid when he arrived there about an hour too late. Why the hell she cared, he didn't know. But his lips twitched into a faint smile as he imagined her beet-red face, her furrowed eyebrows, and her set jaw. Although he'd never admit it, he had found it kind of funny when she got mad at him.

With the grin still on his face, Tyson slipped the small pebble into his pocket and walked, with a little more purpose, towards the school.

* * *

**(A/N):** LOL, Tyson indirectly got girl advice from Kenny – who would've thought? Anyways, drop us a review. :) Until next time!


	3. Never Mess with the Dragon

**A/N:** Thanks to those who reviewed! We lurves you a lot ;) This may not be the best chapter out there but I really tried! Haha… ^^;

**Disclaimer:** We don't own anything

**Summary: **Two people. Two points of view. One destination: 12TH GRADE PROM! Surely it'll be a fairytale right? WRONG!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Never Mess with the Dragon**

"**TYSON GRANGER!**"

Hilary's voice continued to echo in the empty hall bouncing off any solid object it touched. Fuming with flared nostrils, her eyes shot daggers at the teen in question, standing by the door with a hand placed on the gym door. His face remained unchanged even after the sonic boom-like voice from her. Hilary dropped the banner in her hands and stormed over to Tyson, stomping with authority (and possibly cracking the floorboards with every Earth shattering stomp).

Jabbing a finger into his chest making sure it left a bruise, she screeched, "**YOU'RE LATE!**"

"_Ow…_ I know," strange, it was unlike Tyson to admit to anything but, "I was eating _plus_ I had to help Gramps with chores,"

Hilary narrowed her eyes deciphering his words, "You? Help? Chores? Since when did those words associate with you, you _lazy ass!_" she heavily stressed on 'lazy ass'.

Tyson rolled his eyes. Crossing his arms, Hilary took a step away from him still fuming. Everybody saw imaginary smoke spewing out of her ears. Keep this up and well… we'll have a Hilary volcano! She huffed, crossing her arms as well, frustrated with Tyson's attitude! Grinding her teeth, Hilary still questioned herself until this very day _how_ she dealt with his stuck up, lazy ass attitude. It was a miracle Tyson wasn't writhing in the ground as she fumed.

_Okay, breathe Hilary. You've been through this a lot of times. You can deal with him again._

Turning her attention to him, she noticed his attention was elsewhere, ignoring her very existence. If he thought for one moment she would fire him off the Prom Committee, well, he had another thing coming!

_One of these days… one of these days!_

Clapping her hands loudly in front of his face words exploded out of her mouth, shooting Tyson (as usual) accusations of his laziness and lack of motivation to help with _anything _she asked. On cue, Tyson argued, defending himself and his actions (which were fine in his book). Little did they know the rest of the Prom Committee stopped working. They rather watch those two go at it. People took bets on who was going to win the argument. Naturally Hilary would cream Tyson _easily_ wiping him with the floor but Tyson always had something up his sleeve, instantly silencing Hilary. People in the school dubbed it: The Granger Charm Technique. Works every time, like a charm!

After ten minutes of intense arguing, both were literally inches away from each other's face fuming, seething with rage and ready to end it!

"Alright enough," one of Hilary's friends intervened before they decided to tear each other apart. Crossing her arms she said, "My goodness you two argue like an old married couple!"

Silence. Tyson and Hilary's faces were blank before red exploded on their faces.

"**M-Married couple?**" they yelled in unison. Just like those comedic anime, they pointed at each other. "**With him/her?**"

Ding, ding, ding! The fight was instantly over.

Hilary's friend crossed her arms and smirked; "Now you two now kiss and make up!"

Hilary's face lit up just like a Christmas tree; not because she was willing to kiss _the_ lazy ass but rather, the thought horrified her. Heck, truth be told, she'd kiss _anybody_ but Tyson! Bleh! Just the mere thought of it sent shivers down her spine! Over thinking as usual, Tyson narrowed his eyes at Hilary who seemed to imagine Tyson's garlic breath breathing down her throat…

"Ew," Tyson cringed. The thought of kissing 'The Dragon' was… brrr! Quickly snapping his head out of the clouds he turned his attention to Hilary's friend, "Since you're Vice President, what do you want me to do?"

"Ah!" she clapped her hands together, "I want you to help fill those purple, yellow, green and white balloons. We need your help to at least get thirty sets or more,"

Tyson made a face similar to one just instructed to work. _So… much… work!_

"By the looks of your face, you seem disheartened by the fact I put you to work," she pat his shoulder reassuring it wasn't intense labor. "You'll be filling them up by the helium station. You should be done in twenty or so minutes!"

_So… much… work! Bleh!_

Hilary's friend turned to Hilary who continued to imagine Tyson's garlic-like breath down her throat. She rolled her eyes, shaking Hilary out of her misery. It took several attempts snapping Hilary out of her daze but eventually she came around. Asking her friend where Tyson was, she pointed to the helium station. There, Hilary focused on Tyson struggling to fill up _one_ balloon with helium, fiddling with the valve. Keep this up and he'll _break_ the valve which would result in everybody sounding like chipmunks. She wanted to say something but—nah, not worth it. There was too much to do within a short span of time. After all, being President of the Prom Committee came with responsibilities!

* * *

A silent, peaceful hour passed by with the gym looking a bit more 'classy' rather than a gym known for hideous body odor. Bleh! Everybody enjoyed the peace shared between Hilary and Tyson. They never made eye contact which in itself was an incredible feat! Heck, since Hilary's friend suggested the 'kiss and make up' scenario, both parties made sure they avoided the other.

"Alright, easy now with the banner," Hilary instructed. "Easy… easy… there we go!"

She couldn't be happier; on stage was the golden and silver banner spelling out:

**WELCOME TO THE 2011 SENIOR PROM!**

Perfect! Now all that was left was to add balloons, flowers and—

"Hilary!"

Hilary snapped her head around asking if anybody called her. With no heads shaking, she turned her attention back to the banner.

"Hilary!"

Again, she snapped her head around asking if anybody called her. Nobody responded. Hilary swore she heard someone call her name. Maybe someone was in the middle of something and needed help? Shrugging it off, she turned her attention back to the checklist.

"Okay, let's see… there's the main display which should be set—" Hilary paused. Moving her hand to her throat she expressed frantically, "What happened to my voice?"

Hearing her voice a pitch higher than usual, she thought she had gone crazy! The people around her stopped what they were doing, each commenting on the other's voice. Everybody sounded chipmunk-like.

"Hey! What's going on?" Hilary squealed.

"Hey Hil, listen to this!"

Hilary froze; she turned around and lo and behold it was Tyson, speaking in the language of chipmunks.

"Isn't this cool?" he laughed, quite amused by his newly found, high pitched voice. "I didn't know helium could do this to your voice! Heck, I sound like you now!"

"**Tyson!**" Hilary bellowed twitching her fingers. "**What did you DO?**"

With a stupid smirk glued onto his face, he casually replied, "Nothing~" Yep, he was right; pressing her buttons was fun. Spotting a vein popping on the side of her head always amused him albeit he never understood the dangers associated with that.

"**Nothing? Nothing?**" initiate Hilary in Panic Mode! "You didn't turn off the helium did you?"

"I did."

Oh god, Hilary wanted to _choke_ him, "If you didn't then why do we sounding like Alvin and the Chipmunks?" God, she hated that show and nonetheless sounding like them was… ugh!

"I tried to turn off the valve but I broke it."

**Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!** Hilary ran circles in her mind! Keep this up and—EEKS! THEY'LL ALL SUFFOCATE! Hilary quickly rushed to the helium station and there it was; the broken valve on the floor while the tank continued to spew out ridiculous amounts of helium! The gases weren't helping either but she had to shut it off _somehow_ with or without the help of the moron who broke it! Her small hands tried sealing the exposed hole only to prove her attempts were futile; she needed something else to block it. Quickly thinking, she strapped on a deflated balloon on the opening. How this was going to help, she had no clue! She wasn't sure what to do with helium screwing her voice and scrambling her logical thinking!

Snapping her head around she yelled, "Someone get the janitor or someone! **GET HELP!**"

* * *

By the end of the horrible ordeal, the tank eventually ran out of helium. No longer did the students sounded like chipmunks. Outside the gym, Hilary sat and sulked, all hunched over with hands grasping her hair. What did she do to deserve this?

"Yo,"

She twitched. He had the _nerve_ to come up to her and say "Yo"? Shaking her head, her energy was all but depleted from today's drama. Right now she needed to focus on something else. Yes, she needed her focus shifted before she may lay waste to the World Champion. Right now she needed _silence_.

Keeping a firm lid on her somewhat short and explosive temper, Hilary spoke through gritted teeth, "Yes… Tyson?"

She watched his footing shift side to side. "Yeah, um, sorry for the helium thing." just when she thought he was done, he had to continue, "But did you hear your own voice? Like I thought it couldn't go any higher!"

**THAT DOES IT!** Hilary shot out of the bench with both hands grabbing the collar on his crimson jacket. Staring poison darts into his throat, she wanted to make things _very_ clear.

"Listen here you! I'm _this _close to murdering you on the spot but I realized I'd go to jail hence," she lowered her head, shivering uncontrollably. "If you mess this up like you almost did in our Junior year… **You'll. Be. Sorry!**"

"Geez Hil, I was trying to lighten the mood!" Tyson replied. "Besides, it's just dumb prom anyway. There's nothing special about it."

That… That was a deliberate punch to the gut. Hilary abruptly exploded, quickly moving her hands to Tyson's arm and without a second thought she threw him over her shoulder. Tyson landed with a loud thud. His first thought which came to mind questioned Hilary's sudden explosive strength! He didn't know she was that strong! Where did it come from? Sadly, he did not comprehend the situation he was in until Hilary spelled it out in clear, concise death threats.

"Sometimes, I really don't know what to do with you, Tyson," she said with words dripping with venom. "But tell me: what should I do with you, _huh_? Do you think you can answer that for me?"

Now what was Tyson supposed to do? Was he supposed to give her a favorable answer she desperately seek or should he say something that could possibly save his life?


End file.
